#i got sort of carried away

[reverseisekai-richie]

Aww... Pokey is getting into the weeb spirit of this blog.

[ohitslen]

Twitter doodles!

(close ups for the first one below and a small extra as well :D)

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Billy what did you do?

[syqy]

upon your return,

[gamesetart]

hngnngngnng sweet and easy universe……

need Pat to fuck you and tease you about how he knows you’re thinking about Art even while Patrick is stuffed deep inside your little pussy. He’s so mean, teasing about how Art isn’t going to be as deep as he is, he’s not going to know what the fuck to do with pussy this tight, this wet, this sweet.

It’s adorable that you don’t even care that Art’s not going to fuck you better than Patrick can. You’re in love with each other. But Patrick doesn’t have to love you to make you feel good, he just has to love your pussy <3

Well yes! 😁🫶

well. yes. (again, had to break the laptop out for this ur so yummy)

"a terrible sweetness" (a patrick interlude)

tags: patrick zweig x fem reader, p in v, mild daddy kink, implied patrick zweig x art donaldson, implied art donaldson x fem reader. nsfw. minors DNI.

You didn't ever mean to fuck him more than once. Patrick was supposed to be a hookup, a momentary balm to soothe your seemingly insatiable need. He's a frat party fever dream, a fantasy through amber-coloured glass. And he's a saved contact on your phone and a text message at one in the morning:

patrick (frat) 1:47 am

in town, wyd?

So you start to fuck him a little more regularly. With Art's permission, of course, you're a lot of things, but you're not a cheater, for fucks' sakes. It's weird for Art, grabbing lunch with Patrick knowing he's been inside Art's girlfriend, and probably will again before his weekend visit is over. But he almost likes it. Because that's his Patrick and his girl. You've managed to inextricably connect two of the most important people to him, and by having both Tashi and her boyfriend, you've tied the final knot. The four of you, all tied together because you can't keep your pretty hands to yourself.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Patrick taunts, scissoring his fingers open inside you.

Some days, he doesn't bother with much prep - the tight feeling of him bullying inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him, is dizzyingly addictive - but there are nights where it's like he can read your mind, and he finds sick satisfaction in drawing things out so he can tease you. About Art, his Art, his sweet Artie, your lovely, doting, idiot boyfriend, who, for all the goodness in the world, wouldn't ever be able to fuck you like Patrick does.

And he likes knowing he's caused all of this. Patrick knows Art better than Art knows himself. Fucking you is like fucking a part of Art by proxy, and the fact that you're both thinking about him is almost laughable.

"I'm always thinking about him," you return, balling your hands up in your sheets.

He's got you splayed out on your bed, his body between your spread legs, his hand reaching between your bodies to fuck in and out of you with two quick, strong fingers. Patrick's head is right above yours - you could have kissed him, if you wanted. But that's not really what he's for, sweet presses of lips while you 'make love'. Patrick is for the clash of teeth and tongues while you fuck. His eyes are impossibly beautiful, bluish green, the pupils ringed with a sunburst of hazel and gold.

"So am I," Patrick spits back, and it makes you clench around him, hearing confirmation of that single unifying detail, the single nexus between the two of you.

Art.

"But he can't fuck you like I can," Patrick continues roughly.

He pulls his fingers from you, much to your disappointment. (And excitement: not cumming on Patrick's hands just means you'll cum more around his cock.) He brings the slick, shiny digits to your lips, smiling roughly at you.

"Clean that off for me, will ya, doll?"

Patrick likes that he can treat you in a way he can't treat Tashi. She's a lot of things, but she won't let him degrade her. Not the way he degrades you; he's using you as much as you're using him, and he won't let you forget it. He likes that when he holds his fingers up to your mouth you suck them willingly into your mouth and swirl your tongue around him to really make sure you're licked all of yourself off him, likes that you seem genuinely disappointed when he takes them away. Like a dog losing it's favourite toy.

He lines himself up, dragging his cock meaning up and down your slit. Kisses it against your clit, slaps it there for good measure. You moan, eyes fluttering shut, rolling back in your skull. Patrick knows what he's doing, always does. Patrick knows how to fuck. Patrick knows how to make you feel so, so good.

His palm slaps across your face, not very hard, just as a reminder. The crack of skin forces your eyes back onto his smug face.

"No, no, keep your fucking eyes open," he goads. "I want you to look at me, and think about him, when I fuck you."

It's with that promise that Patrick finally spears himself in you, all at once, bottoming out in one rough, steady thrust. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes open as you all but scream, walls stretching to take him, clenching around his cock when he finally lands home. He gives you no time to adjust, though, pulling out again, almost all the way, and slamming back in.

"He couldn't fuck you like, this could he?" Patrick groans. His eyes are half-lidded and his pupils are blown so wide they look black. Lust. That's all this is. That's how you like it.

"N-no," you gasp, rolling your hips up to meet him. "Not like this, fuck, you feel so good."

"Yeah, I do," Patrick says, dragging a hand down your body to palm at your tits, rolling one nipple between his fingers.

The thing about Patrick is he fucks you like he doesn't care about you. Which, to an extent, he does, you're dating his best friend and you've slept with his girlfriend and you're actually really funny and smart and interesting so he can see why Art likes you, but Patrick isn't in love with you. You both know it.

"So good, so fuckin' good, god, you fuck me so good, you're so big," you chant helpfully.

His hips move with a fluidity that is almost mesmerising - strong, fast, powerful. He's a hurricane. You can't bend Nature to your will, but if you're very clever, you can learn how to move with it, to learn to ride the waves, match the tide. That's what you have with Patrick. Organised Chaos.

"He wouldn't know what to do with all of this," he pants. "And when he does fuck you, you're gonna miss me. Because no one's gonna fuck you as deep, no one's gonna take care of this sweet little princess pussy like I do."

The idea of that gets you both going. For Patrick, it's the idea of Art's sweet, blushing face, his fumbling hands, his shaky moans, moans Patrick's become too familiar with at the Academy, the late nights when Art thinks no one can hear. But Patrick can. Patrick always can. For you, it's the idea of the tables turning. It's the horrible, taboo idea of Art finally, finally fucking you, and getting a reminder of Patrick. You can practically see him in your head, the expression he had when he was fucking himself into your sheets.

You know Patrick's right, and it hardly matters. You're in love with Art, not Patrick. One of these days, you'll probably marry him, (he's won you over to the idea, honestly, the whole kids and a house life. With Art, the idea becomes sweet.) and you'll have a gorgeous wedding and his ring on your finger. You're not going to marry Patrick, he's not for that. He's for this. For the now - college dorms and too much beer, texts too late at night or too early in the morning. So you tell him.

"Yes, yes, fuck, you're so good," you whine, and every word comes out shaky and fucked. "No one's ever fucked me so good, only you, Patrick, only your cock, god."

"Yeah, that's it, baby, tell me how good I fuck you," Patrick moans. "Tell me how well I cuck your fucking boyfriend."

That's it. That's all it takes for you to cum around him, because it's gross, and it's a fucked-up thing to say, and it's so mean, and you're trying to picture Art saying something like this to you, doing something like this to you, and you can't. Patrick fucking laughs when you clench around him, shaking. But he doesn't stop. He fucks you straight through it, and then he just keeps going. It's unfair, the fact that he has the stamina of a fucking race horse when he wants it. You've had nights where you've cum four times before he's cum at all, and by the end of it you're only half there.

You don't really have words, but you try. What comes out is a broken, "Patrick-- fuck, Art-- can't-- fuck."

"I bet he wants to put a baby in you," Patrick teases, slamming in and out like he wants to break you. "Bet he wants you to make him a daddy."

He's starting to think maybe he's thinking of Art while he fucks you, too. Keeps seeing images of Art in his head - Art writhing under him, Art begging for him, Art's voice, not yours, chanting, "fuck, yes, daddy, daddy, fuck!"

Patrick slips one hand down to play with your clit. It makes you sob, voice climbing another octave. Your whole floor probably hates you. Your RA probably hates you. Your neighbours definitely hate you, and maybe they hate him too. They're probably all jealous.

"Come on, doll, you've got another one. Cum on my cock. Pretends it's Art's."

He's kind of pretending your cunt is Art's ass, so you'll at least be even. You sob, legs shaking, hands fisting in the sheets so hard they might rip. It's good, so good, too good. Your entire body is on fire. You're clenching around him, and it's like every thrust drives his cock right up into your cervix.

You gush around him right as he fills you up. You're on the pill, of course, but for a moment you pretend you aren't, pretend it's Art emptying his balls into you, filling you up, pretend you're making Art a daddy. It's a nice thought.

You're never going to marry Patrick Zweig. It's probably why he fucks you so well.

[kippdipp]

ARRGHRRARGRHH

[sematarygirls]

okay but sonny showing you off infront of the squad and making Amanda jelly because he’s sooooo in love with you

need tbh, omg 🤭

                   ౨ৎ

he would be so excited to introduce you to the squad. you two had only been dating for a couple of weeks, but he talked nonstop about you. they thought he rambled enough before he met you, but after? my god, they wanted to throttle him.

he'd want to do it in a casual setting when the whole team was relaxed and not worrying about cases, so when amanda proposed that they all go out for drinks, he saw the perfect opportunity.

he asked, of course, if he could invite you. he didn't want you to just show up and have it be awkward. they all agreed, though, of course. they wanted to see who had been able to make him so happy recently (also, they weren't even entirely sure that you weren't just a figment of his imagination).

amanda had been oddly quiet when he brought up inviting you, plastering a tight smile on her face and nodding.

"of course," she said, something unreadable in her tone.

normally, sonny would have immediately picked up on her shift in demeanor. he was her, self-proclaimed, best friend after all, but he was just so excited to finally introduce you to these people that he had grown to consider his second family.

he shot you a quick text, asking if you were available to meet them at the bar, and thankfully, you were. although you would probably drop anything you were doing if he asked you to anyway.

his fingers drummed on the bar impatiently as he waited for you. he kept glancing over at the door, willing you to walk through it.

"look at him; he's like a lovesick puppy," fin teased him, noticing that he was more interested in the front door than the conversation going on.

"leave the poor boy alone, fin," olivia scolded him playfully. sonny rolled his eyes at their teasing, not paying it any mind.

"oh, here she is," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. he practically jumped out of his seat to greet you at the door.

"hey," you laughed, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as he appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"we're right over here," he said, a big, goofy grin on his face. he rested his hand on your lower back, leading you over to the squad. "everyone, this is my girlfriend," he introduced you.

you smiled, giving a little wave as you said hello and told them your name. "it's so nice to finally meet you all. sonny has told me all about you."

"he has, has he?" olivia grinned, raising an eyebrow. sonny smiled nervously, blushing as he rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn't secured around your waist.

"likewise," fin nodded, giving you a warm smile. "i was beginning to think carisi here was making you up."

"nope, definitely real," you laughed nervously. everyone fell silent for a moment, an awkward tension settling. you tried not to take it too personally. you were a stranger, and they were like family. it was natural for there to be some awkwardness. sonny cleared his throat, deciding to break the awkward silence.

"here, take my seat," he insisted, ushering you to the barstool.

"thank you," you smiled brightly, your heart fluttering at your boyfriend's kindness. you didn't think there'd ever be a time when he didn't make your heart race.

"chivalry isn't dead after all," fin joked as you took a seat.

"yeah, yeah," sonny rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. he was used to fin's little remarks by now. he stood behind you, one hand on your waist and the other holding his beer. he was so close that if you leaned back a little, you'd probably press against him. it made a blush rise to your cheeks.

"amanda, right?" you asked, turning your attention to the blonde sitting next to you. she'd been awfully quiet, eyeing you warily. you knew how close sonny was with her, so it was important to you that she liked you.

"yup, that's me," she says, her tone uninterested. she flashes a smile your way, one that doesn't quite meet her eyes.

your brows furrowed slightly. you got the impression that she didn't like you, and you couldn't possibly think of a reason why that may be. you'd only been here for five minutes tops. how had you already done something to put you out of her good graces?

you didn't have long to dwell on this fact, however, because fin's voice cut through your thoughts, making you turn to face him. he began telling some story about his ex-wife that had you smiling and laughing along with him.

fin was so enigmatic. it was almost impossible not to be sucked into whatever he was saying, just by the way that he was saying it.

the rest of the night was a blur of drinks and stories. in the couple hours you were with the squad, you'd learned all about their job and all the embarrassing things sonny had done at one point or another.

he kept on hand on or around you at all times, staying close. so close that you could almost feel the rumble of his laugh. he smiled and doted on you all night long, making you blush. he was so in love with you, and he didn't even try to hide it.

amanda stayed relatively quiet throughout the night, and you could practically feel her burning gaze as she stared at you. she didn't seem anything like what sonny had told you about her, but again, you tried not to take it personally. you were sure she was probably lovely once you got to know her.

really, though, amanda was jealous. she hated how nice you were because it made it hard to hate you (hard, not impossible). she tried to be cordial enough and not show her dislike for you, but to be honest, her poker face wasn't all that great.

she was happy at first when she'd heard him talking about you two, but seeing you two together stirred something inside her that she'd rather not admit.

[aurora-boreas-borealis]

Mer Four doodles

[mipexch]

a proposition

[syn4k]

to be, or not to be (romanticization of the inevitable)

[deoidesign]

Hi, how did you learn to draw Steve's physique?

Ohh what a complicated thing to answer...

When it comes to how I learned to draw anything, it's hard to say anything too specific since it's always a culmination of many years of assorted study and practice... but I can try to do my best to explain some of the biggest things that helped me learn, some tips I keep in mind, and maybe at least some places to start/delve further.

(just a little disclaimer it's not like my drawings here are going to be 100% medically accurate.. they're just to illustrate concepts!)

The main thing about learning various physiques is understanding anatomy. Which feels obvious, but I don't mean proportions; these are important, but perhaps more important is understanding the skeleton and how it moves and learning where muscles connect to bones and where fat grows on the body. When you understand how these function on a more mechanical level, depicting form and movement in a way that feels natural comes in tow.

For instance, understanding things like the pronation and supination of the radius and ulna, as well as the fact that muscles can ONLY contract or relax, will help you understand a bit better which muscles will be flexed and which will not while someone moves. It's inherent to the positioning based on the structural makeup of the body... It's not like you NEED to memorize all the muscles and bones, of course, but understanding and gaining at least a passive familiarity with the concepts really helps.

In tandem with this concept is the way parts of the body flow into eachother. Muscles ALWAYS come in groups because they can only contract. Whatever muscle is there to lift something, there is a muscle on the other side to pull that bone back down. What this results in is a series of straight edges next to curves, which gives us a lot of really lovely "s curves" and dents and folds and so on and so forth just naturally occurring.

I would suggest at least learning the "bony landmarks", which are bones (usually) visible on the surface of the body. things like the iliac crest, the great trochanter, the 7th vertabrae, the acromion process... These can be used to help you understand the parts of the body as angles and relationships, rather than trying to remember lengths and sizes, which vary immensely... (since you asked about steve, he can be our model... also study these on your own don't just take my word for it haha, these are the ones I personally keep in mind)

I've done the same thing with body hair... learning where it grows and in which directions... It helps me make up variations without needing reference, because I have a set of rules I can follow.

The biggest thing that helped me understand all this on a much deeper level was my ecorche course. I sculpted this guy. We started by sculpting the entire skeleton to understand the bones, and then we added muscles on top. Not every single muscle, of course, but the "artistic muscles" AKA the ones which directly affect the surface of the body. Doing this let us see where muscles connect, because we would make a shape, put it on the bone where it actually goes, and then you get to see how other muscles overlap that.

This helped me, perhaps, more than anything else. But I also didn't just start with this course, I had been drawing for years before I even took it. I had been in school for years before I took it. Not that I think it wouldn't be helpful to someone just starting out, but I do think that the more you know going in, the better an in-depth course like this will help you and stick with you. Classes are also expensive, though so I'm not really like... recommending you pay potentially thousands of dollars to take one... But it did help me a lot, personally.

I also, of course, have done many figure, gesture, and master studies...

These just help you quickly gain a stronger understanding of generalized anatomy, and gives you real life examples of and practice with of how people move and balance.

What all this does when combined, is gives me a very solid ability to depict movement and form in a way that feels relatively natural from my subconscious without the need for reference.

The rest of how I've learned to draw his physique is honestly mostly just stylization. I understand the body, and this is how I am depicting it for his level of musculature.

And as I move into depicting him in other ways, either moving in comics or in animation, realistically rendered, or extra stylized, these concepts inform every step of that process for me! When he keeps the same/similar relationships between parts, he gets to still look like himself.

It ALSO really helps when putting clothes on, because the way cloth falls and bunches and lifts is all directly related to the form it is on... So the more you understand that form, the more you can depict clothing and movement in a way that feels natural.

This is all, of course, true when I draw anyone, you asked about Steve so I'm trying to mostly show with him! But because I'm just drawing from raw information of general anatomy rather than trying to study one body type at a time, it allows a lot more "give," I think!

Like, here's most of the cast from TTA so far... actually, they're not as varied as I thought they were nevermind LMAO ignore this part

But, it also makes monster and alien design much easier! It's a lot easier to come up with non-human anatomy when I understand human anatomy, because I can manipulate the knowledge I have...

There is infinite more to study in the world of anatomy... The complexity of the human body goes extremely deep. For our purposes as artists, we need only depict a fraction of it, but more information rarely hurts the process.

I'm sure there's something in here that's wrong on a technical level, I'm mostly going off of memory. But that's kind of my point - I understand enough generally and conceptually that when I am missing something and need to find reference for it, I understand what I'm looking at. It's much easier than trying to learn AND draw at the same time.

I hope even one thing in here helped you! Sorry it's so long.

[skrunklyprisonprincess]

Jefftember art day 18! 'Eaten'

Could have been a Crawford drawing today, it almost was but upon brainstorming... POV

You hear loud clashing of pots and pans during the night. Nobody's supposed to be up at this hour, and last time you checked you were alone in the house... so you get up, run downstairs, turn on the lights and- There's a Weyoun in your kitchen.

He's nibbled on everything. Your kitchen is in shambles.

and on fire.

Ahem, the list of items this fiend has snacked on... Muffin cereal noodles wine kitkat (eaten through all the rows) Banana (skin and all) Onion (unpeeled) Fish (raw) Strawberry salami :) ... uncooked baked beans ... bread which has been marinated in milk.

A fine connoisseur of human cuisine don't you think?

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

The Twin Boys; One in Black, One in White

[the-godly-beef]

Obito dirty basement metal band au!!

For @obito-week 2024 and heavily inspired by @badninken 's moldy basement metal au

[numbuh424]

the lighting of this is kicking my ass so hard rn 🚶

[catgrassplantdad]

What happened after they had sex at the docks? How did they both feel and how was the conversation after it 👀🥲 I have to know catgrassplantdads version of events💕

What a good question! Let's see.

I think for Mickey, it was relief. The lead-up to this had been months long, playing the long con to escape, to get his freedom and his man back and to flee. He'd said "I knew you'd come," but I always imagine he had his doubts. How could he not? But Ian's there, pressed up against his back and smelling his neck like a weirdo, because he wanted him, and that feels so fucking good. He can exhale.

I'm sure Ian felt more conflicted. It must have felt so good to reconnect with Mickey like that, his own sense of relief that came with giving in to the undeniable pull of him, but he has a boyfriend. He's moving on. This is what he tries to tell himself as he pants against the side of Mickey's neck, coming down from the rush, breathing him in like he needs it to live. Fuck, he missed this smell. He missed this feeling. He misses him and it aches.

Mickey pulls away just enough to turn around to face him, pulling his pants back up and wincing, smiling through it, satisfied.

It's a look that makes Ian's heart pound. He glances around to find his shirt.

"Goddamn, Gallagher. Gonna be limping in the morning."

Ian wants to laugh. He wants to smile at him proudly, he wants to say something obnoxious and playful, he wants to kiss him again. He always wants to kiss him. Instead, he turns away as he pulls his shirt over his head. He slips his belt back on and focuses intently on buckling it back up, resolutely not looking at Mickey, who's watching him curiously. He's gotta get all of this back under control. He can't get sucked under.

Mickey's heart drops. That glorious relief he'd been feeling just moments ago gives way to that fear, that flood of insecurity returning. Ian's ignoring him, and he's not going to let him do it.

"Hey," he says firmly, circling Ian and coming around to stand in front of him. "You good?"

Ian pulls his coat back on. "I mean, not really." And...yeah, it's the truth. In the span of a breath, the thought of what he's done is already eating him up. He has a boyfriend. He has a fucking boyfriend.

The shock of it stings. "The fuck, Ian? Seriously?"

Ian meets his gaze. And he shouldn't have done that, because the hurt in his eyes fucking destroys Ian. It crumbles his resolve like fucking nothing, and he finds himself stepping close again without meaning to, like he's lured in by it, the desire to ease that hurt.

"I- I just..." Ian stutters. And god fucking damn it, he knows now that he's not going to stand his ground. Resisting the draw of him is futile. His eyes flick to Mickey's lips. Back up to meet his gaze.

And it's that little look, that glance at his mouth, that has Mickey turning off the anger and the disappointment. Instead, he uses the proximity to his advantage, seeing Ian's obvious weakness and cranking the seduction back up to fucking eleven like he'd done earlier. He knows Ian's wild for it. And yes, he's hurt. He's afraid that in the end, he's going to be walking away from this alone. But he's not going to show that right now. He has to believe they're leaving here together, and he has to make Ian believe it, too.

He smirks at him. He looks at him up through his lashes. He licks his lips, and he moves in closer.

He's unfazed when Ian uselessly takes a step back.

"Fuck you. Kiss me." Hooded eyelids. Pressing himself close again. Grasping the front of Ian's coat. Ian doesn't step back this time.

Ian doesn't think Mickey's ever demanded it like that before, outright said it like that. Kiss me. In an instant, Ian kisses him like he's dying. Like the taste of him is all he needs to live. Like he needs to absorb him inside himself and he never wants to part from him, and fuck, it's happening again, fuck.

"Don't fucking tell me you didn't like it," Mickey breathes when they finally part. "You want me. I know you fucking want me, Gallagher." He's saying it so low, nearly a whisper, smirking again, so fucking tempting and so close that the tips of their noses keep bumping.

He's saying it like he's so confident, like he just knows. Ian doesn't know that in his heart he's gasping it out like a desperate request. Want me. Want me. Unsure and scared and lonely, he just wants to leave here with his person.

Goddamn, Ian has to say no. He has a boyfriend. He has to shut this down. He knows he's absolutely not going to. Not when Mickey's this close to him. When he's seeing him from inches away. Breathing all of him in. Hearing him like this. Feeling him like this.

Ian nods.

It's small and hesitant, but it's clear. And that dark, heavy fear hanging over Mickey like a pall evaporates in the most relieving wave, and he could fall into Ian's arms with how weak his knees suddenly are.

He keeps it together and flashes him a satisfied smile. "Got the van parked close. Come hang out with me." He slides his hands over Ian's shoulders, holding him close.

"What, you gonna lure me in with candy?" Ian says playfully, leaning into it, squeezing Mickey's hips. Fuck, this feels good. It's fucked up, how right this feels.

"Fuck off," Mickey laughs. "Can't say I'm not gonna give you somethin' sweet, though."

"Oh my god," Ian groans, laughing quietly, pressing their foreheads together. Mickey takes his hand.

"Come on," he says, smiling, leading him away.

Ian eagerly follows.